Skipping a Beat PV Marshal Finished

There are times in life where one might look upon a scene and wonder how in the heavens two things might ever have co-existed. It's commonly suggested that opposites attract, but for anything other than literal magnets, the notion really could be preposterous. How could a snake co-exist with a mouse? Or ice remain intact beneath the blazing Sahara sun? It cannot be night while it yet remains day; nor can one look forward if they look behind. To see a flame submerged beneath a body of water would betray all senses of logic. It simply cannot be.

Such confounding of the mind could easily have been the case for any who looked upon this scene at the lake's edge where that night's visitors could hardly be more different from each other. Where dignified grace was met with rough informality; and reserved reflection, with clamorous disregard. Experience countered inexperience while contentment battled against the earnest pursuit to fill a vacancy of discontent. Yet, perhaps there was some truth to the notion of balance and moderation. Sweet and salt made for desirable flavours independently; and together, complemented each other and heightened the gustatory experience. A calming presence could temper a more restless soul; and a social extrovert, guide and shelter the more introverted such that they might enjoy experiences they may otherwise have avoided.

Or… perhaps not.

As collected as Evelynn could be, she was not immune to charmless sarcasm. Lids had hooded with the effort to subdue a very real temptation to roll her eyes the moment Marshal had responded with sardonic tones. She wasn't his mother. Although she supposed she could as well be viewed as a placeholder. In lieu of the absence of any parental figures at the school, prefects really were the most present individuals of any given House. She, among her peers, was expected to demonstrate and enforce the school rules. They were also known to provide advice and comfort, and guide the newer students to feel at home among the castle walls. All things considered, "mom" wasn't all that far off.

Even still, she appreciated neither the tone, nor the string of insinuated suggestions—as reasonable as they might have been—and the thinning of her lips suggested as much. But as easily annoyed as he seemed to be able to make her, he was beginning to have an uncanny ability to diffuse the steam he so easily compressed. No sooner did Evelynn find herself having to suppress her ire than did she find herself having to subdue a smirk. She'd been only too near to answering a resounding "Yes" to his rhetorical question on flotation devices, a quip already cocked to launch to suggest his floundering with words clearly indicated his inability to stay afloat without them.

Instead, she had turned to quidditch to divert. In her musings, she was aware that Marshal had commented on something or other. It wasn't until her own comment acknowledging his tactical suggestion that any of his words really stuck, however. And then she simply couldn't ignore him. It wasn't even the words as much as it was the action. Suddenly, she found her peripheral vision filled with the silhouette of his hands. Side-eyeing them with more than a little confusion, it looked as though he thought her about to tip over. Her hand had stopped mid-throw as her attention swiveled completely over to him now. Then brows shot up.

"Marshal!" she hissed, her expression a bemused exasperation with a sprinkle of irritated seasoning. Grey hues, nearly black in the darkness, flicked towards the cabins and back to the boy. It was late. Past dark. She was allowed out—probably—for praefectorial duties and patrolling, but she couldn't be certain the same could be said for him. A fact that dawned fully on her only then in that moment. Possible rule-bending aside, his shouting was undignified, obnoxious, and poised to draw a spotlight. Which he intended, of course; and she abhorred. "Stop shouting," she lamented in hushed urgency and with half a mind to cover his mouth, "you're going to wake the entire camp!"

Thankfully, he didn't continue with his inane request for a camera. Why he had, in that moment, so adamantly desired one was entirely beyond her anyway. The sheepish grin he turned upon her moments later did little to dissuade her ruffling, now fully realizing that her solitary reflection was full and wholly gone by the wayside. "You really ought t—" Intentions to usher him back to his cabin and into bed were cut off by his question. "You… what?" She blinked, then glanced down to the rock still in her hand, and back to Marshal, sceptical. "Um… I suppose. If you'd really like to…" Her hand extended with the stone offered on the flat of her palm.

What was it with people wanting rocks? First Mister Cespades who had exuberantly handed out pet rocks to everyone in their cabin, then Ryan left the care of her own in Evelynn's hands, then that one Durmstrang girl she'd seen crouched and picking through stones near the water's edge, now this. And which words was he talking about?

"Are you quite alright?" Was he really starting to question his reality? His mention of this feeling like a dream left her a little concerned. It was that very sort of dreamy haze that she remembered retrospectively having while in attendance at the Blossom Ball. And if she recalled correctly, Morgan had intimated something similar during the Valentine's common room fiasco first year. "You haven't… eaten anything odd, have you?" A bit of a strangely vague question that Evelynn couldn't quite expand upon. But she could at least clarify just how aware he was of the current situation. "Do you know where you are? Do you remember what you were just doing?"

Although, on second thought, she supposed confusion didn't have to have a magical source. With warm weather came dehydration and heat exhaustion. Perhaps he was afflicted? A tilt of her head accompanied a sweeping examination of his face for outward signs. She even went so far as to reach her right hand—the one unburdened by a stone—to rest the back of it against his brow to see if he felt feverish. Never really being able to truly estimate one's temperature by that fashion anyway, she would pull it back after a moment. But it didn't hurt to err on the side of caution. Deciding that a good night's sleep should be in order, she suggested, "Perhaps we ought turn in for the night..."

Evelynn’s reaction to his outburst left something to be desired in the category of enthusiasm. Unveiled apprehension clashed with fervent passion, as the girl seemed to shrink away from the attention his outburst promised to invite. The hiss of disbelieving grievance would carry in its wake, quickly lost behind the uproarious presence of its predecessor. Yet the reticent craft of Eve’s tongue was preserved within her companion’s mind, her palpable distress mingling with the beat of his heart and elevating its pace with an impish thrill. Just as her indifferent nature fed his advances, the indignance now painted across her features only fueled a desire to tease.
Heck, it was more of a reaction than any of his other efforts had uncovered. Aside from being crushed by a train and mummified alive; she’d been very animated that day.
It was growing increasingly apparent that varying forms of displeasure were the only emotions she allowed to slip by that guarded front. And if that were the case, a persisting effort of light-hearted harassment would endure - at least until he discovered a more desirable path to the treasure behind her walls. And one day, he would find the key.

”I hope they all wake up!” he responded to her anxious assertion. ”I can’t be the only one here to bask in the glory of this moment.”
On second thought, the purity of the moment would only be shattered by the presence of another. Perfection was best seen by two. When the feelings of two people were uninterrupted by the confusion of a third; when their minds were bound together by the complete fidelity of their thoughts.
Even Leo might sever the tenuous line that spanned the gap between them. And upon deeper reflection, no picture was worth the loss of such a precious scene.
It would only become more precious with time.

Marshal’s motion of reaching for the proffered stone was cut short by Eve’s question, tinged with a tone of concern, leaving his own hand hovering mere inches above hers.
Was he alright? What kind of a question was that? Of course he was alright! More than alright, in fact, for to live within one’s most desired imaginations was an instance hardly comparable in nature.
Mind traveling with that train of thought, the boy would open his mouth to answer in kind. But again, he was cut off, this time by an inquiry after what he’d eaten?
Now he was genuinely perplexed, brow crinkled as he awaited clarification. Though it only came in the form of a continued barrage of questions that amplified his confusion.
Did he know where he was? What he’d been doing? Where had this come from? Suddenly he was being treated like an amnesia patient, with no indication as to why.
It was mildly concerning that the contents of his last meal suddenly escaped him.

”What was I doing?” he repeated, bravado fighting to overcome disorientation. ”I was just pinching myself to make sure I’m awa-” Once more, his intentions were interrupted, this time replaced by a sharp intake of air as a delicate hand reached for his face. Coming to rest upon the bare skin of his forehead, it translated warmth; warmth that seemed to penetrate his outer layer and resonate throughout his entire body.
The softness of her touch caught him by surprise, the smooth surface of her skin gracing his own like velvet and sending shivers down his spine.
So this was what it felt like to be touched by an angel.

Caught entirely off guard, Marshal involuntarily allowed his hand to drop. Instinctively, it wrapped around the first thing it came into contact with, which happened to be Evelynn’s other hand. The rock still held there was clasped between two palms as his fingertips traveled lightly along the base of her wrist, exploring the silken surface before it became too late.
Though it had been an accident, the boy closed his eyes and wished to the heavens above, praying that some celestial being - or perhaps a falling star - might hear his pleas and preserve this single moment in the woven strands of eternity.
Alas, perfection might have been best viewed by two, but in no way could it last forever. Yet even if forever was but one more second, it would have been enough. The heat of her skin against his brow disappeared, leaving a sudden cold inside his soul as he relinquished his grip on the other hand, pulling the stone from her grasp. At least it still retained some semblance of her warmth. He gripped it tightly.

“I…” was all he could say. For perhaps the first time since the first rising of the sun, and some unidentified creature’s first glimpse of its rays, Marshal Mozor could find no words to say. He could only stare - in disbelief, in bafflement, in awe - as the angel he’d seen retracted back into her shell, eyes touched by nimbus hidden in the dark as she suggested they return to their respective cabins.
”Y-y-yeah.” His eyelids fluttered closed as he attempted to rein in his quivering tongue. ”I-I think… my pillow misses me. We have a…” his free hand floundered in the air, as if indicating the concept failing to formulate in his mind, ”thing,” he finished, rather underwhelmingly.
Glancing back toward the cabins, his expression would adopt a depiction of pure horror as he wondered exactly what he had just alluded to.

How little Marshal must have realized just how near he was to unlocking that which he desired: Evelynn's attention. If there was one thing the girl could not ignore, it was a challenge. To her intellect, her intent, her morality... The nature of the challenge hardly seemed to matter. What had been an absolute constant was that those peers who had stirred her ire and spoken against her had been the ones to more absolutely command her focus and her efforts. As graceful an air with which she attempted to carry herself, she simply couldn't let those slights slide unanswered. Thus, perhaps Marshal might have been on to something with his half-baked plan to use harassment to stir her passion.

He had certainly been very near to receiving a lashing. Countering her attempts to silence him with a defiant proclaimation of desire to wake the whole camp had raised her hackles, mood broiling to batter him down into submission if she had to. It was late; they were out possibly past curfew; and a commotion was the last thing she wanted to be a part of. The embarrassment alone was enough to make her want to slink away into the dark and hide herself out of sight. Whatever glory of which he was speaking, she didn't care to puzzle out. Nonsense was a language he spoke only too fluently, and she had long ago given up attempting to decipher it.

Fortunately, for one reason or another, he seemed to change his tune. Coincidentally, almost precisely at the moment that her hand had touched his forehead to check for fever. Perhaps she ought to have been more curious as to the why of the sudden shift in behaviour, but she was rather keen to keep the peace. To do anything else might jinx the moment and cause his reversion back to the less desireable and more outwardly obnoxious version. So she left it alone, instead focusing on the reason for her action: concern for his health.

"You do not seem to be feverish.." she murmured, noting that while the temperature of his skin was warmer than her own, it wasn't sickly so. Nor was there a clamminess or pallor about it. But neither was there any answer to her questions, no assertion to dissuade the worries that had prompted them. In fact, once again he started on some sort of nonsensical line, seeming to have forgotten about what he was doing, and making some reference of pinching himself as though in a waking dr—

Suddenly, a weight bore down upon her other hand, the one that had been held aloft in offer of the stone held within its palm. A jolt of electrical surprise shot up her arm from the point of contact where Marshal's fingtertips had landed upon the vulnerable flesh at her wrist, their pads tracing across her flesh as though painting some unknown rune with an invisible ink. Her gaze had fallen to it, watching with perplexed uncertainty as they danced, afraid, almost, to pull her hand back. It was as though a trance had befallen the boy, his figure statuesque and frozen but for the subtle movement of his fingers, and for a moment, Evelynn was struck with the memory of unusual marks sported by several of the student body. In the wake of his fingers, she half expected the appearance of black marks. There wasn't.

Still robed with uncertainty, Evelynn's hand had fallen slowly away from Marshal's face. With it, the spell that had befallen the pair of them seemed to break. In a blink, his hand had lifted from her own to pilfer the stone that had rested forgotten in her palm. It disappeared within his own and she was left to drag her gaze up to his, brows knitting together in sceptic observation. There was definitely something off about Marshal, she concluded. What exactly, she couldn't be certain, but the way he fumbled his words and stared almost blankly at—or through?—her was uncharactersitic to say the least.

"Right..." she murmured, now more concerned than she had been moments ago.

It was as though something had broken within him. The confidence that typically shrouded his shoulders had wisped away on the breeze, his silver tongue tarnished and floundering. He even waved a hand in the air as though brushing away cobwebs that weren't there. His... pillow..? Missed him..? Since when had she heard him speak of his pillow personified with forlorn feelings of reuniting. Then the expression of horror that had overcome him... Her head snapped around to peer into the darkness in the direction that he faced. But there was nothing there that she could see. Phantoms? Was he in a waking nightmare and seeing that which wasn't there?

"Yes..." she was forced to conclude, collecting herself and whatever remained of her things. Then, turning back to fall in at his side, she coaxed him to move, intent on escorting him safely back to his cabin before returning to her own. "Yes, I think sleep is well in order."

Curtain falls... I think?